by Ben Alderson
Chad returns, closing the door behind him.
“No,” I shriek, sitting up so quickly a sharp pain shoots through me. “Leave it open. Please.”
Chad twists the knob and opens the door, leaving it only slightly ajar. It’s enough to make me feel like I’m not trapped in a cage.
“Savi…” He walks toward me and plants himself beside me. Broad shoulders angled toward me, thickly muscled arms crossed, short hair ruffled from many sleepless nights, and eyes narrowed, if I didn’t know him, he’d come across as quite the formidable opponent. But his serious face doesn’t fool me. He’s still my brother. He’s still a big softy when it comes to his baby sister.
“Do you love him?” I ask.
He smiles. “I do.”
“For how long?” I ask.
That stops him. He considers my words, and I can imagine him reliving all of his cherished memories. The thought makes me smile in return. Sadly, the only affection I’ve ever experienced myself is familial love.
“In a way, I’ve always loved him.”
“I’m happy for you. I just wish you would have told me.”
He reaches forward and brushes away my hair that’s matted to my skin. It’s been days since I’ve cleaned myself, so I expect his effort to be quite the feat. “So do I.”
“Do you have any blood?” I ask, rubbing my stomach.
He nods as he leans over and grabs a small black box. Unclasping the lid, he opens it to reveal several blood bags and a few ice packs to keep them cool.
“How many have I had already?” I ask.
He eyes me cautiously. “This will be an even dozen.”
I gasp. Normally, a blood bag or two every few days is enough to sustain a vampire. But one dozen in a day’s time? How can one vampire even drink that much?
“You nearly died, Savi,” Chad says, answering my unspoken questions.
I sniffle as he rips open the bag and offers it to me. I ignore his stares as I quickly drain the pouch’s contents. Even as I slurp down mouthfuls, I know this will not be enough. I need more.
“Savi?”
“Hm?”
“Who are they?” Chad asks. The confusion I feel must show, because Chad continues. “Before you passed out, you said they will come for us. Who are they?”
Flashes of all I experienced dances before my eyes. The pain of the constant torture, of being stabbed and lashed repeatedly, is still strong. I can still taste bile on my tongue from the moments I was whipped until I tossed up the acid of my stomach.
“Savi, you’re shaking,” Chad says as he scoots closer to me. He tosses my empty blood bag aside as he pulls me against him. He wraps his arms around me and rocks us together. “What happened to you?”
George
I press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. My legs cannot support my weight as I listen to Savi answer Chad’s question. Every part of me reacts to the violent words that spill from Savi’s mouth as she shares the truth—a truth I cannot bear to listen to but also cannot stop myself from eavesdropping on.
Do they know I’m still here, listening from the hallway? I should have gone home for Father’s book, but I cannot leave. I need to know what happened to Savi, to my friend… my Savi.
I press a hand to my mouth and one to my stomach, praying not to retch at what Savi says. Clear imagines conjure in my mind, recreating the horror Savi has been through.
Am I punishing myself by listening? I want to share her pain. I wish I could take it away, but I cannot. Because the darkness, the parasite within me, causes her more pain when I’m near. She doesn’t deserve this pain, especially after what she has been through at the hands of these monsters.
On and on, she explains, her voice iron clad and strong. It is Chad who breathes heavily as he cries over Savi’s truth.
When I can’t take any more, I stand and leave. My footfalls across the landing and down the stairs are loud. They will know I have been listening, if they didn’t already hear my muffled whimpers. Besides, I don’t bother to close the front door quietly.
Standing in the street, I take in the fresh morning air. I cannot remember the last time I actually slept, and my muscles seem to punish me for it. But there is no time to rest, not even now when Savi is home.
I need Father’s book. The very one I leaned over as I tried to bring him back from the cusp of death. It has been years since I gripped its worn binding. The last time I saw it, it was in Mother’s hands when she picked it up from beside Father’s dead body, just before she turned her back on us both. She took the book into Father’s study and slammed the door shut. I haven’t been allowed inside his office since that day.
The walk home is slow. I want to run, but I can’t. I feel sick with nerves and anticipation. The memory of Savi’s terror leaves a mark on my soul. I have nothing left in me—except exhaustion.
Mother must be asleep. The house is still and quiet. I press my hand to the wall just inside the door, searching for answers, but the house does not respond. If she is awake, I should have sensed that.
I take cautious steps up to my room, where I proceed to lie down on my bed. I close my eyes against the light, which now streams in through my window. When I open them again, I know much time has passed. The streams of light have moved, and I hear noise in the lower part of the house. It’s Mother, I’m sure.
How long have I slept? My blood electrifies within my very veins at the thought of time passed. It wasn’t the plan to waste time, and now my chance at finding the book without Mother knowing is over. Sadly, I cannot wait for her to fall asleep again. I need the book now.
I am slow and clumsy as I pull out a fresh pair of jeans and a dark navy jumper from my drawer. I carry them into my bathroom and lock myself inside. Hoping a cold shower will wake me, I stand beneath the stream, chanting every incantation I’ve memorized, hoping to wake me.
I glance up at the spout. The water hits me with pressure, splashing onto my skin and dripping down my body. I wash the night away. Scrubbing the memory of the club and the supreme from my skin.
A tingle spreads from my face all the way down to my toes as the freezing water aids my whispered spells by waking my senses and clearing the fog within my mind. It helps, calming everything except the coiling power inside of me. I cannot deny the growth of this dark presence.
As I step out of the shower, dry, and dress, all I can think about is whether or not the book will have answers. What do I do if it can’t help Savi and me?
I stand before the mirror and stare at my reflection. I look like shit. Dark circles surround my green eyes; even my hair looks dull and lifeless. My jumper hangs off me, hardly fitting my shoulders anymore. Even the sleeves are stretched and have to be rolled up to stop them from constantly falling past my hands. My jeans, which drape off one side of my hip, will need a belt to keep them in place. The more I look at myself, the harder it is to remember when I last ate a proper meal.
Something in my eyes catches my attention. I lean over the counter and look closer, trying to make out what just happened. When my face is inches from the glass, my breath fogging the mirror, I see it again. My irises seem to change in color, flashing entirely black.
A menacing laugh erupts within the room. I slap my hands over my ears and stumble away from the mirror, unable to look at my reflection.
No. What I just saw was not my reflection. That was something else. Something worse.
Answers await you. Even its taunting voice is louder in my head.
I rush out of the bathroom, leaving my wet towel strewn across the floor. Mother will scold me for being messy, but I do not care. I need that book. Is it the realization that I hope to find answers about the darkness that causes it to be bolder, stronger? Perhaps. Or maybe it is making me weaker with each day that passes? I sense it growing, sapping my energy. The weaker I get, the louder the internal voice becomes. I am fighting for control of my own body, but it seems to be winning.
I creep onto the landing and
listen for Mother. She is downstairs, busy in the kitchen. The wafting scent of cooked breakfast greets me. I take this chance to peer into her open room.
I push my hand to the wall and whisper to the house, begging it not to alert Mother that I’m snooping in her private quarters. The landing creeks in response. Was that the wind outside, or did the house agree to keep my secret?
My steps are silent as I walk into Mother’s room. At the doorway, I scan every inch of the perfectly clean space. Her bed is made, and everything is in order. It’s no reflection of Mother’s hidden, imperfect reality.
I can’t search for the book in Father’s study, not without asking for Mother’s permission. She locked the room years ago, but maybe she brought it here for reading material? I am hopeful.
I reach for the darkness, which is moving like an excited child.
Will you help me find the book? I ask it. Part of me knows it will not refuse me. Its frantic twisting reflects its shared desire for me to find it.
A sharp pain responds, causing my knees to rock. I almost cry out at the overpowering feeling. It scares me, pains me, but I must keep looking for it.
Is it close? I ask.
It shivers again, spinning deep within me. Is it searching for it?
No, it answers simply.
I want to question it, to ask how it knows, but I believe the darkness. I trust in what it tells me. After all, it needs my body as much as I do.
“Can I help you, child?”
I turn on my heels to find Mother standing behind me. Almost choking on my own surprise, I swallow the lump in my throat and stand tall.
“Father’s book,” I tell her. “Where is it?”
She smiles slowly. “At last, you have asked. I was beginning to believe you would never express interest, but I suppose so much has changed about you.” Her gaze is perceptive. We both know she has seen the darkness within me when I—when it—attacked her.
“You want to know what is happening to you?” she asks me.
“I need answers, yes.” I don’t explain what answers I need. I cannot tell her about Savi, about what I have done to her.
Mother reaches a hand for me, letting it hover a few inches away from my chest. Her eyelids flutter, and she takes a hulking breath. “It grows, my boy. Oh, how it grows.”
A frozen chill spreads up my arms. “What grows?” I ask. Something in Mother’s aging eyes suggests she knows more than she’s letting on.
Ignoring my question, she says, “The book will be here this evening. If you want it, you must be here as well. Is that clear?”
“Why tonight? Why can’t you give it to me now?”
Mother sighs. “Because without my coven, we will not be able to retrieve it. I shall call them, but you must also be here. Only then will you get your book. Let us help you, my boy. We can fix the pain it is causing you.” She reaches a hand for my shoulder. I hold my breath, trying not to flinch as her fingers grasp my shoulder.
“I do not need your coven’s help. I only need Father’s book.”
Her eyes glitter with pleasure. “No, my boy, it belongs to you now. All the power within its pages is now yours.” She turns her back on me before I can question her more. “I shall alert my coven of tonight’s… meeting. Until then, I have prepared breakfast for you. By the looks of it, you need to eat. You are allowing it to weaken you.”
I am left standing in her room, watching her walk away.
Allowing it to weaken me? She knows! The way she refers to the dark power suggests it is much more than a magic spell gone awry. She speaks of it as if it is living.
Before I let panic and fear truly overwhelm myself, I pull out my phone and text Chad. First, I hover over Savi’s name, but it’s too hard to even consider messaging her right now.
Instead, I send the message to Chad and tell him that I am staying home for the evening so I can get the book from Mother. Pocketing the phone, I go back into my room and close the door. This is the only place I feel truly safe when I’m in this house.
I consider everything Mother said. Why the coven? What do they have to do with the darkness? Again, a vision fills my mind, just like what happened right before we found Savi. This time, I see a symbol—the very symbol Mother’s coven wears on their breast pockets.
Soon… the darkness whispers.
I glance at the mirror in my bedroom and see my smiling face staring back at me.
But I was never smiling in the first place.
Savi
The room is silent as I consider his question. I’m sitting, leaning against the cold, hard headboard of my bed, listening as the ceiling fan swirls air all around me. Each whoosh of the blades sends me further into my mental, mind-numbing abyss.
Outside, leaves are falling. I watch as they are carried by the wind, and I wish I were them. They’re wrinkled, fractured by the world’s chaos—just like me. They’re broken, hollow, damaged by things beyond their control. Just like me.
But they get to fly away, leaving behind all that hurts.
I don’t have it so easy.
Flashes of memories—tragedies—play on a loop behind my mind’s eye. Telling Chad the truth about my experiences will only anger him. Do I want him to look at me and only see what I’ve endured? I want him to remember me as his fun-loving younger sister, not a tortured vampire.
Can he bear witness to my torment?
More importantly, should he? Even I don’t want to keep these memories.
I pick at the dried blood that’s caked around my nailbed. I know Chad won’t let me wash until I’ve given him something. I see it in his eyes. He doesn’t want to know what happened to me; he needs to know. His urgency is as strong as my desire to shield him from the truth.
But we aren’t children anymore. He can’t keep me safe from the monsters lurking in the shadows.
“They call themselves hunters,” I begin. “Never in all of the stories Mother told us about vampires, or the different factions, have I ever heard of such a creature.”
I eye Chad curiously. Has he heard of them? As if he can read my mind, he shakes his head.
“They look like humans, but they’re not. It’s a disguise.” I scratch at my palms, looking everywhere except at Chad. “They’re… stronger than any human I’ve ever encountered.”
Chad waits for me to continue. He sits on the opposite side of my bed, one leg anchored beneath him while the other dangles over. His arms are crossed, and his shoulders are squared toward me. I’m thankful for his patience. Confronting what they did to me is making my stomach queasy, and I can’t afford to get sick right now, not after drinking a dozen blood bags.
“I almost escaped the first night. I killed two of them, and their blood was… mesmerizing. They tasted like pure energy. I felt so strong, even though I’d just fought the wolves.”
Chad winces. I picture him remembering that night. The night we fought the wolves, back when they actually wanted me dead. Chad was injured, and George had to bring him home to heal. They were forced to leave me behind.
“Don’t,” I say.
Chad eyes me curiously.
“You didn’t do this to me, Chad. If you and George were there… it could have been worse.”
“You don’t know that.”
“They saw George and me at the cottage. Every day, they would question me about him. They wanted to know who he is, where he lives. They knew he was a supernatural, because he was with me. They wanted to take him too.”
Chad runs a hand through his matted hair as he exhales slowly. I know what he’s thinking. He wants to know what I told them. He wants to know if George is in danger, but he doesn’t want to ask me that. I decide to put his mind at ease.
“They didn’t break me,” I whisper.
He frowns, reaching over to touch me. I wince as his thumb makes contact with the curve of my jawline. “But at what cost?” he asks.
“I would die before I endangered you or George,” I say.
“You almost did
.”
“I came close,” I say, nodding. “One night, after a really bad… questioning, I could feel myself slipping away. I wanted to be strong for you.” My tears drip in steady streams as I confess my darkest moment. “I wanted to make you proud and hold on, but the darkness was there and it was warm and soft and the ground of my cage was cold and hard, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t let him hurt me anymore, so when the emptiness came, I wanted it. I wanted to die.” I hiccup, crimson tears staining my bed sheets in a bloodbath.
Chad pulls me against him and holds me tightly. He rubs my back, whispering promises he can never keep. He tells me it’ll be okay, that I’ll make it through this, that he will find the people who did this and make them pay for what they did to me.
“Death was close that night. If it hadn’t been for…”
I stop speaking. How much do I want to confess? Do I tell him I drank from Will, the very same hunter who got me into this situation? He investigated his girlfriend’s death, discovered my secret, and brought them to me. He watched as they abused me day after day, only choosing to save me when he had no other choice. Do I share the secrets his memories spill?
“If it hadn’t been for what?” Chad presses on.
I clear my throat and sit back, pulling away from his embrace. I need to think clearly, and being surrounded by my brother’s scent isn’t helping the situation.
“If it hadn’t been for Will,” I say. “The human. He’s… a hunter.”
Chad’s eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as he considers my words. Yes, Will deserves this reaction—and a whole lot of pain—but he did save me. He offered me a drink from his own wrist. What other hunter would do that?
“He saved my life, Chad.”
“He’s probably the one who did this to you!” he shouts, jumping from my bed. He paces my room over and over again until I can’t stand it anymore. I imagine a trapped animal locked in a cage at the zoo, and it makes my skin crawl.
“Stop! Sit down. Calm down. Let me explain.” I scratch at my skin on my palms, drawing blood. Only then does he relax and return to his seat.
